Death By Houseelf
by twin-v
Summary: When his house-elf tries to kill him, Draco turns to Hermione for help.


**Authors' Notes:** Written for H&V's Reverse Challenge, this fic was inspired by itsbeenvery's art, D/Hr and Spider. We can scarcely believe this whole fic was inspired by that one picture! Thanks for the great inspiration, itsbeenvery! It was a challenge, but a very good one. Thanks also to our beta, Dayang Lucilla. Hope everyone enjoys the fic! :D

The picture can be found at dramione [dot] org/files/reversechallenge/spider [dot] jpg

"I think my house elf is trying to kill me."

"Death by house elf?" Hermione asked skeptically, hiding a snort. Despite his air of nonchalance, Draco seemed perfectly serious. She raised her eyebrows. "I don't believe house elves make it a practice to kill their masters, no matter how_ abused_ they are." Her tone implied that if the elf was indeed trying to kill him, Draco deserved it.

"No, they don't make a practice of it," he agreed, untouched by her barb. "That's why I didn't quite believe it myself at first."

"House elves are bound to _protect_, not harm, their masters. They're incapable of killing their masters– unless perhaps ordered to."

Draco scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I don't remember giving Tinky orders to kill me," he said mildly, knowing his calm manner was irritating the hell out of her. "So what will we do about this, Granger? Will you look into it?"

Determined not to let him get to her, Hermione ground her teeth and contemplated it for a moment. While it sounded incredible that a house elf would attempt to kill its master, it was also quite incredible that Draco Malfoy would be so paranoid as to believe it without proof– to take up the matter with _her_, the head of the House Elf division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, whom he didn't like and usually avoided. All right, so maybe things had changed since the final battle– they had both returned to Hogwarts to complete their seventh year, and although there had been a time that year when they had become friends, after graduation they had grown apart again. In fact, after graduation all contact had ceased so completely that Hermione wasn't sure where they stood, and she was quite certain he wouldn't make this up just to speak to her again. Especially since he was acting like they'd never been friends.

"All right," she said, drawing a sheet of parchment towards her and grabbing a pen. "I'll ask you a few questions, and if I think your elf is indeed trying to kill you, I'll go to your house and interview the elf."

"Fine by me."

"Name of elf?"

"Tinky. Winky," he added. "Tinkywinky." Hermione raised an eyebrow. "His full name is Tinkywinky, but I call him Tinky. His mother was quite into Muggle culture, I believe she read about the tellychubbies in a magazine," he explained. "That's what Tinky told me, anyway."

"It's tele_tubbies_," she corrected him automatically. "How old is he, and how long has he been in your employment?"

"He's quite young, not more than ten human years, and he's been bound to our family since the day he was born."

"Hm. That should make the bond of loyalty stronger," she mused. "All right, Malfoy, what has Tinky done to make you suspect him?"

Draco shifted in his seat. "The first two incidents are kind of stupid," he said, "which is why I didn't think of it at first. But the third one..." He took a deep breath. "First, there were a bunch of doxies in the drawer of my desk in my study at home. I use it regularly, so there shouldn't be a single doxy, much less a whole flock of them."

"That is a bit suspicious, but not unheard of," Hermione commented. "When was this?"

"Last week."

"And Tinky supposedly maintains your study, so you suspected him?"

"I didn't suspect him until later, although he is the one in charge of cleaning my study. I just thought it odd that suddenly my desk was infested with poisonous creatures. By the way, your department should look into that," Draco added. "The second incident– this was two days ago, on Sunday– was when I caught Tinky slipping a potion into my water. I'm not sure what the potion was– he said it was supposed to heal my strained muscle, since I had hurt my arm playing Quidditch that day. I thanked him but didn't drink it, because I figured a massage would do me more good."

"So you don't know if he was, in fact, trying to kill you or help you."

"No, I don't," he said irritably. "I'm just stating it as possible evidence. I only thought of the first two incidents after the third."

"Which was?"

"I found him in my bedroom this morning, holding a lit candle to my bedcovers."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "What did you do?"

"I asked him what the hell he was doing. He blew out the candle, said some nonsense about checking if I was warm enough, and disappeared. When I saw him later on, I pretended nothing happened. No use in letting him know I suspect him," Draco explained. He waited impatiently while Hermione wrote a few notes, then asked, "Well? What do you think?"

She chewed thoughtfully on her lip. "I'm not sure," she said honestly. "It does seem a bit suspicious, but there's not enough evidence–"

"What do you need, a dead body? _My_ dead body?" Draco asked scathingly, his calm facade slipping. Hermione cringed to hear the fear in his voice. "Fact is, I'm about to be murdered!"

"For what motive?"

"For what- For the love of Merlin, Granger, who knows how those creatures think? For freedom, revenge, for _food_, I don't know!" He threw up his hands in exasperation. "Look. I've almost been killed enough times to know when I'm trying to be killed. Will you help me?"

It was the most bizarre thing Hermione had ever heard– even when Kreacher loathed Harry, he never tried to kill him. Still, she couldn't very well turn her back on any man who was worried about being murdered, much less someone she had once considered a friend. She could at least look into it. "I'll interview Tinky," she said finally. "I'll interview _all_ your elves, so he doesn't get suspicious. How many elves do you have?"

"Twenty three."

"Twenty three?" she repeated, surprised. It was the largest number of family-owned house elves she'd ever encountered. "Only?"

He looked at her sardonically. "The Manor doesn't clean itself, you know."

Hermione paused in the act of keeping her notes. "Manor?" she squeaked with a pang of dismay.

"Malfoy Manor. We can't sell it," Draco said. "The blood magic won't allow us to do it, we're as bound to the Manor as my ancestors who first built the place. But we did renovate it. Too many things have happened there. And... I'm sorry for them."

She looked up at him, and found him gazing intently at her, his cheeks turning the faintest pink. "What happened wasn't your fault," she said, pleased nonetheless that he had apologized. In all their interactions during their seventh year they avoided talking about the war and all that had happened. Now this unexpected, unasked-for apology gave her the strength she needed to return to the scene of her former torture."But... apology accepted."

"When do you want to interview Tinky?" he asked, abruptly changing the topic. "I think the earlier it is, the better. You know, before I'm dead."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Keep your hair on, Malfoy. With your permission, I'd like to interview him today. Now, in fact." She reached for a thick sheaf of papers and counted twenty three sheets, one for each elf. "Shall we go to the Manor?"

Draco stood up. "I think it's best if I pretend I don't want you there. Like the Ministry is forcing me to allow you to interview the elves. That way they won't be so suspicious."

Hermione agreed. "All right," she said, grabbing her bag. "We can argue pretty convincingly, I think."

Draco laughed and followed her out of the door.

They Apparated directly into the main entrance of the Manor. Hermione let go of Draco's arm as soon as she got her bearings. The Manor was much more beautiful than she remembered. It was light and airy, and as far from frightening as one could imagine. If anything, Hermione felt she had stepped into a Jane Austen novel. "This place looks lovely," she said approvingly.

"Thank you- my mother planned it all from her cell in Azkaban. She sent over the plans, and I executed them." Draco relieved her of her coat, placing it on a side table. "The elves will take care of it later," he said, walking forward. "I'm not sure where they are- would you like to meet them first as a group, or will you see them one by one? You can set up in the study or the library, if you like. Although I can't imagine what you want to ask them," he added, scowling. "I make sure all my elves are happy."

Hermione remembered they were supposed to be acting, and hurried forward to catch up with him. She had only taken a couple of steps when a tinkling sound made her look up. To her horror, she saw the large chandelier above Draco's head swaying dangerously.

"Malfoy!" she cried, her heart in her throat. Draco turned to look at her just as the chandelier fell. "Impedimenta!"

The chandelier stopped its descent, hanging suspended in mid-air, its lowest crystals brushing the arms Draco had futilely raised to protect himself. He gaped up at it, while Hermione sighed in relief. She gently levitated the chandelier to the side of the entrance hall and set it down carefully. Her legs were shaking badly, and she took a few steps before collapsing in a nearby chair. Draco, white as a sheet, was still standing in the same spot, his head tipped back as he stared at the spot where the chandelier used to hang.

"Are you all right?" Hermione asked shakily.

"I'm fine," he said, his voice clipped. "Tinky! Is that you?"

In an instant, a house elf appeared in front of Draco. "Master!" he wailed, clutching his ears pathetically. "Master must forgive Tinky, Tinky is a very bad elf. He is cleaning the light when it is dropped on Master." Hermione's mouth fell open as she realized that this was the elf whom Draco had accused of attempted murder.

"You were up there, on the chandelier?" Draco asked sternly. He shot Hermione a meaningful look over the tiny elf's head. She nodded wordlessly- it looked as though Draco was right to fear for his life.

"I is cleaning it," Tinky cried, tears in his large eyes. "I is finished cleaning the candle holders, so I is wiping the chain that holds the chandelier, when it broke. I is not meaning to hurt Master, or to break the light." He cowered in front of Draco, who looked down on the elf impassively.

"Do you realize that you almost _killed _me?" Draco asked harshly.

"Tinky is sorry, Master! Tinky didn't mean to!"

"Enough," Draco said contemptuously. He wasn't usually cruel to his elves, but the incident had badly shaken his nerves. He glanced at Hermione, who was watching them, gripping the arms of the chair so tightly that her knuckles were turning white. "Would you like to start the interviews with Tinky, or do you have another system?"

"I prefer to do it alphabetically, if you don't mind."

"Not at all." He turned his attention back to the elf. "Ms. Granger is here from the _Ministry_," he sneered, showing his derision for the current government. "She was sent to interview all the house elves, to make sure that you're being treated properly. You are to stay in your room until she calls for you. Do _not_ inflict any harm on yourself. No work for you for the rest of the day- perhaps the rest of the week."

Tinky raised his tearful gaze at his master. "Yes, Master. Tinky is very sorry, Master." He bowed again, his long nose almost touching the ground, before disappearing with a crack.

"I'll show you to the library," Draco said to Hermione. He waited for her to stand, and led her to a large room that was full of books, from floor to ceiling. Draco closed the door behind them and cast several spells to maintain their privacy. "There." He walked past her to collapse on one of the comfortable reading chairs. "That was close." He rubbed his face with his palms. "Thank you."

"I think Tinky _is_ trying to kill you." Hermione's voice quavered slightly. "You were right, Malfoy."

Draco laughed shakily. "I never thought I'd hear you say those words– but I always thought they would make me feel a lot better than I do now."

"What should we do?" she sat across from him, her brow furrowed. "Obviously you can't give him clothes– perhaps the only thing protecting you right now is his bond to you."

"Can't you arrest him? Take him away?"

"House elves aren't generally arrested, because oftentimes they're not acting on their own free will. They do what their masters tell them to do. If we could prove that he's acting of his own free will, or maybe someone _else_ has a spell on him..." Hermione tried to think. It was an incredibly difficult thing to do after almost watching Draco be killed. He hadn't seemed fazed while talking to Tinky, but now he looked terrified. She felt a pang of pity for him, and tried to pull herself together. It must be awful to think that one of your most loyal servants was trying to murder you. "Maybe we can keep him in custody while we figure that out. I can call Harry, maybe the Aurors can arrest Tinky. It would be better if we had proof, though."

"How much more proof do you need, Granger? The elf dropped a fucking _chandelier_ on my head!" Draco said angrily. "Potter will listen to you. Your statement is proof enough."

"But Tinky claimed that he was cleaning it. How can we prove otherwise?"

"And he _claimed_ he was in my bedroom this morning, holding a _candle_ to my bed to check if I was warm enough!" Draco stood up and began to pace. "Why can't you just arrest the damn elf?"

"I will, but I want more proof!" Hermione drew herself up, straightening in her seat. "What if he's innocent? Accusing a house elf of trying to murder his master could have detrimental effects on the elf, you know."

"Why do you care so much about the elf? My life is at stake here!"

"I know, but we do need to do this properly, Malfoy. We need to know the bigger picture. What if the other elves are in on it? Taking Tinky away could trigger a revolt. It might not help at all."

Draco shuddered at the idea that all of his servants were out to do him in. "How will we do this, then?"

"I'll interview all the elves first. When I'm done, that's when we'll make the arrests. All right?"

He exhaled forcefully. "Fine. What will I do while you interview them?"

"Just try not to get killed," she grinned, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "Honestly? I think you should get out of here. Go and visit your parents, perhaps they know something. Or go to the Auror department and get Harry."

"_Potter_?" he wrinkled his nose. "I'd rather go to Azkaban. But why can't I stay here? Tinky will be in his room, anyway."

"You're assuming he's the _only_ one who wants to kill you," Hermione reminded him. "Why did you do that, though? Send him to his room? I thought Dobby used to iron his hands and ears."

Draco's jaw tightened. "Not that it's any of your business, but I have a different system from my father," he said. "I've found forbidding them to work more effective than physical punishment. Not only do they feel my disapproval, but they're also deprived of their main reason for living."

"That's... that's actually quite clever," Hermione said, thinking it over.

Draco snorted. "You're not the only one capable of intelligent thought, Granger," he reminded her. He stood up. "I'm going. I'll tell Apple that you want her. I'll probably take away some food for our lunch, I don't trust the chefs here at the moment."

"All right. Thank you." She fiddled with her bag, then reluctantly looked up at him. "Can you order your house elves not to harm me? Just to be on the safe side," she added hastily.

"Of course. Also, I think you should wait until I return before interviewing Tinky. I'll wait outside, so he doesn't know I'm listening."

Hermione seemed surprised at his concern, and smiled. "Thanks. That makes me feel a bit better. Do I have permission to use Legilimency if I need to?"

Draco nodded. "I didn't know Legilimency was used on elves, but it's fine with me if you use it."

"It comes in handy if the elf can't betray his master– especially if the master is abusing him," she explained.

"Makes sense, I suppose. Anyway, I'll leave you to it, shall I?" he walked to the door and opened it before turning around to give the former Gryffindor one last look. "Be careful, all right?"

His first stop was Azkaban. He hadn't expected his parents to be of any help, so he wasn't disappointed when they couldn't tell him anything other than "be careful" and "get that Granger creature out of my house." He did take offense to the latter, and for some reason felt compelled to defend Hermione– after all, _he_'d been the one to invite her. And there had been a time during their final year when they'd been friends, but he was sure Hermione didn't think much of it. She had much more important friends, after all. He was lucky she even deigned to help him.

"She's helping me, Father," he said. "She's England's expert on house elves, and I'd rather not pay for someone who's less than the best."

"There have been enough Mudbloods in our manor-"

"Because of you and the Dark Lord!" Draco threw up his hands in frustration. "Haven't you learned anything yet? Potter, Granger, even the Dark Lord himself weren't purebloods!"

Lucius glowered at his son. "Draco-"

"No. I know what I'm doing, Father. I've learned from your mistakes." Draco nodded at his father and bent forward to kiss his mother's cheek. "If you don't hear from me, then I'm probably dead."

Narcissa glared at her husband.

Draco's next stop was a Muggle pizza restaurant. He had never tried Muggle pizza, but he figured Hermione would like it. It was half past one when he returned to the Manor, so he headed straight for the library and knocked on the door. A muffled "yes?" was his cue to enter.

He opened the door to see Hermione sitting with an elf, Melon. "You still here, Granger?" he drawled, feigning surprise. "Not done with my elves yet?"

Hermione smirked. "Not yet, Malfoy. Your elves have told me a lot of _interesting_ facts about the way you've been treating them."

Melon let out a yelp of dismay. "Melon is not saying anything bad about Master!"

"No, nothing bad," Hermione immediately soothed the elf, looking slightly awkward. Draco snickered.

"Almost done, Granger?" he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorframe, looking bored. "Ready to leave my house soon?"

"Nine elves to go, after Melon. I might stick around to observe more, though."

"Sweet Merlin," Draco swore, rolling his eyes and mumbling "overachiever!" just loud enough for her to hear. He had to admit, he was enjoying this- teasing Granger and knowing it was, well, allowed. "After you're done with Melon, you can have lunch. Let it not be said that Malfoys are inhospitable!"

Five minutes later, after Melon left the library, Draco re-entered, carrying the box of pizza. Hermione looked up from her notes, her eyes lighting up as she saw the food. "Pizza!" she exclaimed happily. "What flavor?"

"The special," Draco replied. "It had a lot of toppings, I figured you can just remove some if you don't like them."

"Don't worry, I like them all," she said, taking a slice. "By the way, you were laying it on a bit too much, earlier! Poor Melon didn't know what to do!"

He laughed. "Don't pretend you didn't enjoy it, Granger." She merely rolled her eyes and took a bite of pizza.

Both starving, they ate for a while in companionable silence. Draco had to admit– not out loud, of course– that Muggle pizza was quite delicious.

"Did you see Harry?" Hermione asked once she had started on her second slice.

"Didn't have time. I'll go this afternoon," Draco replied, studying the can of Coke. "You've only got a few elves before Tinky, right?" He tried vainly to twist the top.

"Just two," she said, eyeing his drink. "Do you need help with that?"

"No, I've got it," he said confidently, pointing his wand at the can. The top flew off with a pop, and, much to Draco's horror, the drink began fizzing. "Shit," he grabbed the can just as the drink began to overflow. He lifted it off the table, but it was useless; the coke spilled onto the carpet.

Hermione laughed. "You must have shaken the cans when you carried them," she said, using her wand to clean the spill. "These fizzy drinks do that when shaken."

"Thanks for telling me _now_," Draco muttered, carefully taking a sip. He made a face at the sting of the liquid on his throat. Hermione looked at him questioningly, waiting for his verdict. "No need to look so damned curious, Granger. I've had Coke before– just never in a can."

"There's a first time for everything." She cautiously popped open her can, and raised it. "Cheers, Malfoy."

He answered by tipping his can slightly. For some reason it reminded him of the month during his final year at Hogwarts, when Professor Vector had reputably gone mad and had assigned Draco and Hermione to pair up for an Arithmancy project. It had gone much better than they had expected, and that had been the start of their short-lived friendship. It had shown him that they could work together; in fact, they were a good team. It was one of the reasons he hadn't hesitated to contact Hermione after finding Tinky about to murder him. Draco felt slightly guilty that he hadn't owled her after graduation, but what was he supposed to say? They had no reason to see each other after school had ended, and he was quite sure Hermione was glad to have him out of her hair. He had fancied her for a bit, but she showed no signs of returning his regard, so he thought it best to nip his attraction in the bud. The separation had worked well... until now.

"Did you discover anything? Are the other elves plotting to kill me, too?" he asked, dragging himself away from such thoughts.

"No, everyone so far seems quite innocent." She grinned at him. "Perhaps I shouldn't tell you– your ego might inflate– but I gather you're quite a good master. The elves have no complaints, anyway, and they say you're better than your father was."

"That's not saying much," Draco said, although he was pleased that his elves thought highly of him. "So why would one of them want to kill me?"

"Hopefully we'll find out after I interview him."

"How long does it take you to interview each elf?"

"Not long, about ten minutes, sometimes fifteen," she replied. "Why?"

"Maybe I can go to Potter while you're interviewing them, and I'll be back for Tinky's interview," he said, mentally planning his schedule. "If you give me a letter or something to give Potter, it might be easier."

"Good idea." Hermione dug in her bag for a quill and parchment. "I don't want him to come before I've interviewed Tinky. I'll call him after the interview, if Tinky is guilty."

"He is," Draco was certain. "He is."

About an hour later, after Draco had delivered the letter and explained the facts to a very bemused Harry Potter, he returned to the Manor to wait for Tinky's interview. He was just in time, and as Solar left the library to call Tinky, Hermione handed Draco an Extendable Ear.

"So you can wait outside and listen in without Tinky knowing," she said.

Draco settled himself outside the library, sitting on the floor and slipping one end of the Extendable Ear under the door. It was the first time he had ever used this particular Weasley's Wizard Wheezes product, and he had to admit, it was quite ingenious. He listened as Hermione asked Tinky a lot of normal– rather useless– sounding questions. The elf seemed just as devoted as the other elves, and was quite vehement in his denial when Hermione asked him if he knew of any elf that wished to harm Draco. Draco himself almost believed Tinky– it was only the memory of waking up and finding Tinky trying to burn him to a crisp that kept Draco from believing the elf's innocence.

Finally, he heard Hermione ask directly, "Do you wish to kill Draco Malfoy?"

The elf squeaked. "No Miss! Of _course_ Tinky does not wish to kill the Master!"

"Are you being forced to? Are you _trying_ to kill him?"

Draco didn't hear any response, but a second later he heard Hermione cry out in pain. He leapt to his feet and burst into the room just in time to see Tinky disappear and Hermione collapse to the ground. Draco swore and rushed to her side.

"Granger!" he lifted her up slightly and turned her so he could see her face. "Shit." Her nose was bleeding freely, and her face was contorted in pain. "Granger, what did he do?"

She struggled slightly in his arms, raising her hands to cradle her head. She still refused to open her eyes. "Legilimency... pushed me out."

Draco was filled with cold dread as her words sank in. He'd heard her tell Tinky– as she told all the elves, he presumed– that he had given her permission to perform Legilimency on all the elves. So Tinky shouldn't have pushed her out, not unless he really wasn't under Draco's control anymore. Moreover, to be forcefully shoved out of someone's mind could damage the mind of the Legilimens, depending on how forcefully it was done. Hermione's current state told Draco that Tinky hadn't been gentle.

Panicking, Draco stood up and carefully placed Hermione on the couch. "Apple!"

Their eldest, most trusted elf appeared. "Master?"

"Some pain-relieving potion for Ms Granger, please. One for headaches," he added tersely, adjusting the pillows behind Hermione's back and moving her so that she bent forward, his handkerchief pressed to her nose. She allowed him to take care of her, her head feeling like it was about to explode, if it hadn't already.

Unable to do anything more, Draco rubbed Hermione's back soothingly. He wasn't quite confident in his ability to perform Healing spells– he used to be quite proficient at them, when the war required it, but it had been years since he'd needed to heal anyone– though if her nosebleed didn't stop soon, he would have to try.

Apple arrived with the potion. Draco thanked her and took it. "Hermione, I've got some pain relieving potion. Can you drink it?" he asked, turning to her. He felt a pang as he realized she was crying, tears of pain leaking from her tightly shut eyes.

"Yes please," she moaned, her voice muffled from the handkerchief. Draco was horrified to see it almost entirely soaked in blood. He knew he had to act quickly.

"I'll try to heal your nose first, all right?" he asked gently, setting the potion down and trying not to show how anxious he was. Carefully, he pointed his wand at her nose and, after taking a deep breath, whispered the spell. For a moment he was worried it hadn't worked, but then Hermione wiped her nose and lowered the handkerchief. Relieved, Draco held up the vial of potion to her lips. "Drink this."

Hermione obligingly drank the potion, and almost immediately, her face began to relax. "That's better," she gasped, opening her eyes. Draco found himself pushing her damp hair away from her face with a tenderness that shocked even himself.

"Are you all right now?"

"I will be," she assured him. "Thank you." She looked down at the bloody handkerchief that she was still clutching, then back at him. Draco could see she was exhausted. "I need to sleep," she told him. "Just for a bit, I think there's something in this potion..."

He adjusted the pillows and leaned her back until she was lying down. "It's fine, sleep all you want," he said, taking the blood-soaked handkerchief from her fingers. "I'll be here when you wake up."

She fell asleep almost instantly. Feeling helpless, Draco could do nothing but wipe the blood off her face with a conjured washcloth. His hands were trembling slightly. The incident had scared him more than he cared to admit.

Once he had cleaned her, he sat down on the chair beside the sofa, the one she had used while interviewing the house elves. Reaching for the glass of water that sat on the table in front of him, he took a sip to wet his dry throat. What was to be done? Potter would need to be told, of course. Draco wondered if Tinky was still in the premises. Perhaps he should order the other elves not to let Tinky leave.

Suddenly, Draco yawned, feeling incredibly sleepy. He slumped in his seat as a wave of exhaustion hit him. "Shit," he mumbled, eyeing the glass of water mistrustfully. With that last thought, he fell asleep.

As Hermione began to slowly wake up, the first thing that she thought was that the bed she was lying on wasn't very comfortable at all. In fact, she had the distinct feeling of discomfort. Forcing herself into complete awareness, she opened her eyes.

And found herself upside down.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut again, trying not to panic. When she next opened them, she was still upside down, but this time she took note of her surroundings. Like the man in front of her. Draco Malfoy. She tried to push him away, but discovered that they were tied together, wrapped up in a silky sort of material. Mentally swearing, Hermione craned her neck and looked around. What she saw almost made her heart stop.

She and Draco were hanging upside down, cocooned from shoulders to feet, suspended on a giant spider web. Somewhere over Draco's shoulder Hermione could see a large, long, hairy spider leg, but she didn't dare look further. Instead, she tried to wake Draco up.

"Draco," she hissed, poking him in the stomach– or what she hoped was his stomach. He grunted, but didn't wake up. Hermione poked him again and heard only a gentle snore in response. She struggled for a bit, wishing she could reach her wand, but it was impossible. Her hands were trapped between their bodies. It was awkward, being pressed so closely to Draco. He wasn't waking up, so Hermione gripped a good piece of flesh between her fingers and gave him a hard pinch.

That did the trick. His eyes shot open with a yelp, which Hermione stifled with a glare and hiss. "Malfoy, we're in trouble."

He stiffened as he realized their predicament. "Where is it?" he whispered, his eyes wide with fear.

"Some way behind you. Against the wall." They were suspended in the middle of the room. Hermione saw the spider move slightly, and was sure she would have paled if gravity hadn't been pulling blood to her head. "Why in the world do you have an acromantula in your Manor?"

"We don't! At least, none that I know of!" Draco said defensively. "Honestly, what kind of family do you think we are?"

"I have no idea!" she shot back. "You played host to something much more _dangerous_ than an acromantula before!"

"I hate spiders." To prove his point, he twitched and gave a nervous yell when the spider moved behind him, causing the web to sway. Sweat was beading on his brow, and his eyes were wide and slightly panicky.

"Be quiet!" she huffed, although she wasn't sure if it would make a difference. "Why were you asleep, anyway?"

Draco frowned, trying to remember. "I think there was a sleeping draught in your water," he said. "I just had a sip, next thing I knew, I was asleep."

Hermione looked surprised. "I've been drinking from that glass all day. Except– perhaps Tinky put something in it?"

"I'm going to _kill_ that elf," he promised darkly.

"Later. How will we get out of this?"

"Can you reach your wand?"

"No. My hands are here." Demonstrating, Hermione gently pushed at him; one hand was on his stomach, the other was on his chest. "It's getting quite uncomfortable," she said.

Draco shifted slightly, trying to loosen the silk. "My arms are at my sides," he whispered. Suddenly, Hermione gripped him tightly.

"Stop moving!" she hissed. "It's coming closer."

He immediately stilled, wide-eyed. "Oh, Merlin. What are we going to do?"

Hermione closed her eyes, thinking rapidly. "Are you an animagus?"

"No! And open your eyes, for God's sake! It might be right behind me and we'll never know." He could imagine a hairy spider leg brushing the nape of his neck and shuddered so hard that the strands of silk holding them up trembled violently.

She looked over his shoulder. "No, it's not right behind you, but it's coming closer. All right," she said, "I'm going to transform and jump down. I'll try to slice the web. As soon as you're able, grab your wand and stun the spider. Aim for its eyes."

Draco nodded fervently. "Okay."

"This might hurt a bit," Hermione said, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Draco felt his hair stand on end as he felt the web sway from the spider's movement. It was getting closer.

"Hurry– Ow!" he gasped, as suddenly a white cat was nestled against his chest, using her claws for grip as the cocoon loosened slightly. Draco was somewhat amused to see that her head was brown, and looked somewhat bushier than the rest of her body. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

Hermione swiped at the spider silk that was holding her and Draco captive, and after a few tries managed to break through some of the silvery strands. She leaped nimbly to the ground, landing on her feet. Draco wasn't as lucky and fell hard, landing on his back, hitting his head in the process. "Ouch," he muttered, dazed.

The spider advanced on them, eyes glaring angrily, and Hermione quickly transformed back to a human. "Stupefy!" The spell did not seem to have any effect, as the spider continued to creep closer, one hairy leg at a time. "Impedimenta! Draco, move!" It was almost on top of him, and with one more step it could crush him. "Accio!" she aimed her wand at Draco, and he came flying towards her. Hermione tried not to panic as eight eyes turned in her direction. Her mind was a total blank. Was there any spell that was particularly effective against acromantulas? Her eyes roved over the giant creature, looking for a possible weakness. There was something off about it, if only she could figure out what...And then it hit her.

"Finite incantatem!"

The spider disappeared. There was silence for a few seconds, until Draco's senses finally returned to him.

"Granger? What did you do to it?"

Draco sat up, gingerly moving his limbs, checking if everything was working. He felt a lump at the back of his head. "Ow."

Hermione walked by him, tapping her wand on his head. Immediately, he felt the pain lessen. He turned to thank her, but she was busy scanning the ground. "It was a common house spider," she explained, pointing at it. "I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner, even after you had said that you don't keep any acromantula pets. And it wasn't clicking, which is a distinctive acromantula behavior."

Draco squinted at the ground until he spotted it, and it was coming towards him. He quickly stood up. Just because it was only a few centimeters long didn't mean he wanted it near him.

"You're just like Ron."

"What?"

"Ron. He hates spiders too," Hermione explained. "Some traumatic childhood experience, he said." She moved towards him. "Let's get out of here. I don't want to wait for the next thing to happen."

"Where will we go?" he asked, but the minute she touched him, he was caught up in Side-Along Apparation. It was always disconcerting, especially when it was unexpected, and she had let go of his arm long before he opened his eyes to take in his surroundings. It was a very cozy-looking, obviously well lived-in room, with book cases lining all four walls and pictures on top of the mantle. "Your place?"

"Yes." She was rummaging in a cabinet for something. "I couldn't tell you back there, in case Tinky was listening somehow. I know it's a predictable place to run to, but I needed this." Hermione emerged with a pensieve in her hands. "I couldn't risk him finding out what we know."

"What we know?" Draco asked, an eyebrow raised questioningly. "What you know, you mean."

"But I don't know who he is."

"Who?" Confused, Draco watched as she put the tip of her wand to her forehead and seemed to extract a silvery wisp of light. She put it into the pensieve, stirred it, and peered into the bowl. Then she looked up and motioned for him to have a look.

There was a young man's face staring up at him from the pensieve, and Draco knew him instantly. "Robert Crabbe."

"Crabbe?" Hermione asked sharply.

Draco nodded. "Vince's younger brother."

"Why– he's trying to kill you!" When Draco continued to stare pensively at the image, she started asking more questions. "I don't remember Crabbe having a brother. Was he at Hogwarts? He looks really young, how old is he?"

"He's about five years younger than us. He was supposed to start at Hogwarts when we were in Fifth year, but his parents sent him to Durmstrang after the Dark Lord returned. I don't know if it was to protect him...or to train him. He was smart– not as smart as you, perhaps– but he was a genius next to Vince. He was his parents' pride and joy, but he practically worshiped the ground Vince walked on. I guess he's just gotten back to London and is eager to avenge his brother."

"What a waste of talent."

"Talent?" Draco scoffed. "I'm sure there's a better way to murder me than to set a house elf on me."

"I think it was a good plan, but a poorly executed one," Hermione argued. "He left too much to chance. Maybe he didn't count on Tinky's loyalty to you. I suspect that all this time, Tinky's been trying to fight the curse he's been under."

Draco snorted. "Not doing a very good job, is he?"

"The fact that you're _alive_ seems to say otherwise," she muttered, glaring at him. "Honestly, have you never thought of how easy it is for your house elves to kill you? If he really wanted to, you would have been dead ages ago. He didn't _have_ to start with doxies, you know. Be thankful he did." She sniffed disapprovingly, and turned her mind to more important matters. "I'm going to call Harry. The Aurors definitely have to get involved now, and at least we've got a suspect." She went to her fireplace.

Sighing, Draco stretched out on the sofa and unconsciously ran a hand through his hair, feeling for any remnants of the bump that had almost knocked him out. He turned his thoughts to the events of the afternoon. Hermione was an Animagus. Somehow, that didn't surprise him. He remembered how her claws had dug into him and looked down. There were small droplets of blood on his shirt. Grimacing, Draco unbuttoned his shirt and pushed the material aside to heal the punctures.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, turning around as he finished the last wound. He looked up to find her blushing furiously. "I'm so sorry! Cats aren't used to being upside down, you know, and I needed to grip something."

"It's fine," he waved aside her apology. "You saved us, after all. A few puncture wounds is nothing." He was slightly amused at her pink-tinged face, and wondered if it was caused by more than embarrassment for having hurt him. He was distracted from his thoughts by the arrival of Harry Potter, quickly followed by Ron Weasley.

Draco sat up, buttoning his shirt quickly. "Oh, no. You didn't tell me Weasley was invited!" he exclaimed, making a face. It had been several years since Draco had last seen Harry and Ron, and time, it seemed, had done its work and allowed him now to tolerate them. Harry and Ron hadn't returned for their seventh year, so while Draco would never consider them friends, he didn't hate them like before, however much he pretended to.

Hermione ignored him, and suggested Ron and Harry do the same while she briefed them on the matter. Harry had already told Ron about Hermione's previous letter, so she only had to fill them in on the spider incident, which caused Ron to pale.

"So now that we've got a suspect, where do we start?" Hermione asked her boys.

Harry, who had been thoughtfully quiet until then, shook his head. "I don't envy you, Malfoy," he said. "Robert Crabbe's got a file in the Ministry for sending abusive and threatening letters to various Ministry employees– mostly those who were involved with rounding up Death Eaters, throwing his dad into prison and all that. He's disappeared though, I mean, we haven't heard from him in months. He used to live on their estate in Nottinghamshire, but his mother, who's under house arrest– mind you, not sure if she's the sort to be trusted– said he left one night and never returned."

"We'll need a warrant to search their house, though," Ron said. "And a team of people– their house is huge!"

"Not more than a quarter of the Manor," Draco said dismissively. "It used to be one of the Malfoys' old estates, until it was given to Crabbe's great great grandaunt– a Malfoy– on her marriage to a Crabbe."

"It's still huge, especially when a person is _trying_ to hide," Harry pointed out. "And tomorrow is the earliest we can get a search warrant, since Mrs. Crabbe won't let us in without one, and an arrest warrant for Robert Crabbe."

"Do you think we could ask the elf where Crabbe is?" Ron asked. "Or if he doesn't say we could use Legilimency again, but be more prepared for an attack."

"It's worth a try," Draco nodded. "I can do it. He's less likely to harm me–"

Ron scoffed. "He's trying to kill you! It would be the perfect opportunity!"

"I'm still his master," Draco argued. "He doesn't do anything he hasn't planned first. I must have given him lots of opportunities to do me in these last few days, but he's only tried four– now, five– times, each with a rather outrageous and risky plan. He could have just knifed me or something, rather than using doxies, a potion which I might not have, and indeed didn't, drink, a candle, a falling chandelier, and a giant spider. It's like he can't do me direct harm, but must use something to harm me."

"I told you, he still has some degree of loyalty to you," Hermione looked proud of Tinky. "Maybe he _will_ divulge Crabbe's location to you. Or at least give you some sort of clue."

Harry nodded. "In case he doesn't, I'll tell one of the blokes at the office to start getting the warrants ready."

"I think we should go back to the Manor. Tinky might be there, and if I call him here, I'm not sure if he could get past your wards," Draco said to Hermione.

She shook her head. "Sounds dangerous. I can just alter my wards."

Harry spoke up. "I hate to say this, but I agree with Malfoy. You live in a Muggle building, Hermione," he pointed out. "If anything were to happen with Tinky, Muggles might get caught in the crossfire."

Hermione frowned, but conceded. "All right. I guess we go back to the Manor then?"

"All of us?" Draco raised his eyebrows. "I'm just going to talk to the elf. Potter and Weasley can make themselves productive and do something else."

"What if he drops a chandelier on your head again?" Harry challenged. "No Malfoy, we're going with you."

Draco sighed. His long day had just gotten longer.

In no time at all they were back at the Manor. Ron's eyes were roving the ceiling and the walls, and he constantly jerked his head whenever he heard a sound. Draco looked at Hermione as they entered the drawing room.

"Is he always like this?"

Hermione chuckled slightly, shaking her head. "He's just on the alert for spiders."

Ron jumped. "Don't _say_ that," he hissed, not taking his eyes off the ceiling, where he thought he saw movement. Deciding he had imagined it, he finally looked at Draco. "Well? Call your elf already."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine. Not because you asked me to, but so you can get the hell out of my house. Tinky!"

After a few tense moments, when no elf appeared to answer his call, Draco let out the breath he hadn't known he was holding. It felt strangely anti-climactic. The others relaxed slightly as well. "I wonder where he is," Hermione said, frowning slightly. It was unusual for a house elf to not answer his master.

Feeling slightly concerned, Draco called again. He felt a tingle of fear run up his back and turned slightly, wondering what caused his hair to stand on end. Suddenly, a loud crack signalled the arrival of Tinky– but he wasn't alone.

"Expelliarmus!"

Even as Draco's wand flew from his hand, a beam of red shot towards the man who had appeared with the elf– Draco had to admit, Harry Potter had quick reflexes. The wandless Stunning Spell was deflected on Robert Crabbe's Shield Charm. Draco instinctively put up his own shield.

Robert Crabbe was slightly less meaty than his brother. He stood at the same height, but his thinner limbs made him look longer, somehow. He wore his dark hair longer than Vincent had, and the pair of glasses perched on his nose gave him an air of intelligence. Behind the glasses, his eyes gleamed with the same evil light that Vincent Crabbe had worn during his last year at Hogwarts.

"Draco, it's been a while," Robert said pleasantly, glancing almost happily at the man he had been trying to kill. He held four wands in his left hand and his own in his right. Between his hands was Tinky, visibly quaking, looking nothing like the healthy elf Hermione had interviewed a few hours previously. Draco felt a surge of anger when he saw Robert's wand pressing into his house elf's throat. He chanced a look at Hermione to see her looking incensed at Crabbe's treatment of Tinky. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Ms. Granger," Crabbe continued, looking at each in turn. "Vince spoke of you three often. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

No one spoke.

Crabbe looked around the room. "If I didn't know this was the Manor, I wouldn't have recognized it," he said conversationally.

A true madman, Draco decided. He didn't know why Crabbe didn't just kill them. "We redecorated," Draco replied tersely.

"So I see. I wasn't sure if the wards would readmit me, you know– if I had known, I might have spared the elf the trouble. Then again, he did add a certain element of psychological drama, didn't he?"

Tinky wailed. "Master, Tinky is sorry–"

"Shut up!" Crabbe jabbed his wand into the elf, and Tinky broke off with a sharp yelp. Draco started forward, but Crabbe waved him back. "Move any closer and the elf dies."

Draco gritted his teeth but stayed back. He felt Hermione move beside him, and started slightly when she took his hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"That's better," Crabbe sneered. "Where was I? Oh, I was telling you how stupid it was of you not to change your wards."

"You and Vince were always welcome here," Draco pointed out. "Why should that change?" Especially since he hadn't known Robert Crabbe was the one trying to murder him. Now, however, things were different, and Draco mentally commanded the wards to change, relieved when he felt them respond to his wandless command.

"Vince said you weren't the same that last year. Said you were different, said you had gone soft. You didn't agree with him on a lot of things."

Draco remembered that year well. With the Death Eaters running the school and the Dark Lord running his home, it had been a year of nothing but terror. That year had changed his views, had changed his life. Draco only wished it hadn't taken him that long to see it. Crabbe and Goyle, on the other hand, had enjoyed it. They had reveled in their new power– perhaps because Draco had always kept them under his thumb. They had been more ruthless than him, and he regretted it.

"No one was sorrier that Vince died than I was," he told Robert softly, sincerely. "I would have saved him if I could."

"Do you take responsibility for his death?" Robert asked. The words cut Draco– he'd often thought of it, often wondered if he had, indirectly, killed his friend.

Both Harry and Hermione protested. "Malfoy didn't kill him! It was Crabbe's plan!"

"_Vincent_ cast the Fiendfyre, and lost control of it!" Hermione gripped Draco's hand tightly as she spoke. "You can hardly blame Draco for that."

Robert's mouth curled into a cruel grin, his eyes fixed on Draco's face. "Draco killed Vince, and he knows it."

"I didn't!" Draco denied vehemently, unable to completely suppress the feeling of guilt rising in his chest. He tore his hand away from Hermione's and clenched his fists. "If Vince had listened to me–"

"I'm glad he didn't!" Robert said fiercely. "You've become too high-handed, Draco, always bossing people around. Vince looked up to you, you know he did."

"Not at the end, he didn't," Draco returned. "As you said, he thought I became too soft. But if he _had_ listened, instead of casting the Fiendfyre, he might have survived."

Robert's eyes narrowed. "Better he die than listen to someone as spineless as you." He twirled his wand between his fingers and grinned, the evil glint in his eye looking more pronounced than ever. "And he died trying to kill these three Gryffindors here– this elf has been more helpful than I thought, I couldn't have planned this better if I'd tried."

Hermione looked disgusted. "I wish you _had_ tried. Your plan has thus far been rather stupid, you know, relying on an awful amount of luck."

"The end justifies the means, as they say," Robert looked unconcerned at her censure. "Enough. My brother died by Fiendfyre, Malfoy– so shall you."

A roaring sound was the only warning they had, before a large flame dragon burst into existence. Robert spun on the spot but didn't disappear. He sneered, realizing that he couldn't Apparate and, not bothering to control his creation, ran for the door.

Draco stepped forward, his heart in his throat. "Go after him!" he yelled desperately, planting his feet firmly in front of the dragon. The heat was intolerable, and he could see his possessions being eaten up by the fire, one by one.

Harry and Ron gave chase, but Hermione stayed beside Draco. "Go!" she shouted when they hesitated, unwilling to let Draco do anything stupid. "I'll be fine." She turned to Draco. "I hope you have a plan."

"Get Tinky out of here, and don't distract me," he growled, his teeth firmly clenched. Sweat was pouring down his face, and he was doing all he could to keep his control.

It was only then that Hermione realized the fire wasn't spreading like it should have. In the Room of Requirement it had spread quickly– no doubt aided by the vast quantity of flammable hidden things– but it shouldn't be spreading this slowly. The smoke, though thickly pouring off the dragon, seemed held back, confined to one end of the room. She looked at Draco, about to tell him, when she saw him gazing fixedly at the fire, almost staring down the dragon. He was controlling it, she realized, her heart skipping a beat. He had somehow wrested the control of the fire after Crabbe had let go. Slowly, almost too slowly, the dragon was growing smaller.

"Get Tinky!" he yelled again, never taking his eyes off the flames. In his distraction, the fire surged again, but was quickly subdued. "Go!"

Desperately, Hermione looked around for the tiny elf. He was lying on the floor, perilously close to the flames, and apparently unconscious. Careful not to distract Draco, she crawled to Tinky, crouching beneath the smoke. Once she was close enough, she scooped him up and carried him to an area where the smoke wasn't as thick.

"Tinky," she called breathlessly, trying to rouse him once she has made sure no bones were broken. "Tinky!"

The flames roared. "Is he alive?" Draco asked.

"Yes, but I think he's inhaled too much smoke."

She could see him moving his hands now, coaxing the fire to die. His lips were moving, murmuring an incantation, and for a moment Hermione felt a rush of hope, but a second later he staggered back, and the dragon grew. Hermione ran forward with a scream, just as Draco got the curse under his control again.

"The fire is confined to this room," he told her, giving her as much attention as he could spare from the dragon. "All the rooms in the Manor are spelled that way. Take Tinky and run. I'll try to follow."

"Draco–"

"Go!"

"No. Let me help you!"

"You'll help me by running." Draco turned his full attention to the Fiendfyre, ignoring her protests. Hermione stamped her foot pettishly, but did as she was told.

"I'm taking Tinky out of here, but I'm coming back for you," she warned. If Draco heard her, he didn't reply.

Hastily, Hermione ran back to Tinky and cradled him gently. She slipped through the door of the drawing room and into the corridor. A few elves were waiting outside, anxiously wringing their ears.

"The others are in the Entrance Hall, Miss," Apple said, falling into step beside Hermione as she started for the Hall. "The two men have caught Mr. Crabbe."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin for that," she muttered. "He may well yet become a murderer, and not just an attempted murderer." She turned to the elf. "Can you take Tinky there? I need to go back to Draco."

"Yes, Miss." Apple looked fearfully up at her. "Will Master be all right?"

"I hope so," Hermione said, not wanting to lie. The little elf was looking up at her so trustingly that it was all she could do to not give false hope. "I hope so."

"Master has been practicing with fire," the elf confided, as Hermione transferred Tinky into her arms. "We can't disturb him when he does."

Hermione was surprised by the elf's words. Practicing with fire? Had Draco expected this? "If so, then I'm almost sure he'll be all right," she said, turning back to return to Draco. Apple nodded and continued towards the Entrance Hall.

She paused outside the door to the study, listening intently. She didn't want to distract Draco, but he needed help. She had almost expected him to run out after her, but he hadn't. Her heart was in her throat as she gently cracked open the door, trying to prepare herself for anything, but knowing that nothing, except the sight of Draco alive and well, could make her happy.

When no blast of heat greeted her, she pushed the door open a little wider, and peeked inside. She gasped. The fire was gone, but Draco was lying on the floor in the middle of the charred room. Hermione hurried forward, afraid of what she would find.

He didn't stir as she approached, treading carefully around the ashes strewn about the room. It almost looked like the fire hadn't remained where it had been when she had left; but rather, like it had exploded somehow. When she finally reached Draco she dropped to her knees beside him, her heart in her throat. His arms were covered in angry, red blisters, and his face was twisted in pain. She exhaled with relief when she noticed him breathing.

"Draco?"

He didn't move. Hermione thought frantically. "Apple?"

The faithful elf appeared with a crack. "Miss? Is Master all right?"

"He's alive," was all Hermione could say. "He's been badly burned. We need to get him to a Healer. How are Harry and Ron?"

"They aren't hurt at all, Miss. They're worried about you, they are. They give you this wand."

"Thank Merlin." Hermione closed her eyes briefly, relieved, and accepted her wand. "Can you ask Ron to get a Healer? I'm not sure we should move Draco, although I want to get him away from this room. There's ash everywhere."

Apple left the room, and Hermione wracked her brain, trying to think of what she could do. First, she generated a small breeze from her wand followed quickly by a Bubble-Head charm on herself. Next, she needed to secure his airway, to make sure it remained patent. There was a spell for that. She closed her eyes and imagined the page of her Helpful Healing Spells Handbook that dealt with burn victims. She practiced the wand movement a few times before feeling confident enough to try it on Draco. This spell supposedly lead to a similar effect to that achieved by Muggles, only without the tube. She didn't know any spell to give oxygen, so she settled for placing a Bubble-Head charm for him as well.

It felt like hours before Ron returned, a Healer hard on his heels. "Hermione!" he exclaimed, looking slightly tired but no worse for the wear. "Are you all right?"

She nodded and stood up. "I secured his airway," she told the Healer, showing him her handiwork. "I wasn't sure if I should move him or not."

"You did wonderfully," the Healer assured her, briefly examining Draco before taking a few potions from his bag. "We need to get him to St. Mungo's as soon as possible. Another team of Healers will be arriving shortly."

"We'll go meet them," Ron said, heading for the door. "Harry doesn't want to leave Crabbe yet, and the other Aurors are arriving," he told Hermione over his shoulder. She didn't reply, and he turned to find her still hovering over the Healer.

"Do you need my help, before the other Healers come?" she asked.

The Healer waved her away distractedly. "No, no, I'll be fine. Thank you."

With one last, worried look at Draco, Hermione followed Ron out the door.

The next two days were incredibly hectic for Hermione. Thankfully, Harry and Ron handled everything relating to the arrest of Robert Crabbe, and all Hermione had to do was testify. She had enough on her plate informing the Malfoys of what had happened to their son and their house, managing Draco's house elves (who seemed to look to her for guidance as their master was indisposed), working on her usual tasks at work, and visiting Draco at St. Mungo's. The Healers had healed his burns in a jiffy, but he was still sleeping off his exhaustion after overcoming the Fiendfyre. Hermione's curiosity had gotten the better of her, and she couldn't wait for him to wake up to get answers to her questions; instead, she used whatever free time she had to research the cursed fire thoroughly. She hadn't known it was possible for anyone other than the caster to control the flames. It wasn't mentioned in any of the books she had read, but Draco had evidently done it.

On the third day, she received an owl from Draco's chief Healer that he had briefly woken up from his coma. Hermione was pleased to have good news for his anxious house elves when she returned to the Manor that afternoon to complete the interviews with the elves she hadn't been able to finish. She knew it had only been a cover to prevent Tinky from suspecting her, but she figured she might as well gather data on the Malfoy elves while she could.

That evening, when she visited St. Mungo's, she was disappointed to find Draco deep in sleep. Consoling herself with the fact that he would probably be more rested the next day, and therefore more amenable to her many questions about the Fiendfyre, she set about arranging the many "get well soon, Master!" cards that Draco's worried elves had made for him.

A knock on the door made her jump. "Yes?" she called quietly.

Ron entered the room. "Hey, Hermione." He noticed what she was doing, and approached to get a better view of the cards. "Malfoy's house elves sure are devoted to him," he observed with a slight smile.

"They are," she agreed. In her line of work, she had come to realize that some, if not most, house elves really were happy as slaves. The best she could do was to make sure they had the best living conditions possible. But she had never before come across elves as happy and contented as the Malfoy elves. They had confided that they hadn't always been this happy– under Lucius Malfoy many had been as envious as they had been appalled at Dobby's defection.

"They're not the only ones, I've noticed."

Hermione turned pink. It would be useless to pretend she didn't know what he meant. "It's just... I mean–" she faltered, unable to explain why she spent so much time with him. "I feel sort of responsible for him, you know? He came to me, asking for help. And now would be an awful time to leave him, you know?" she lowered her voice even further. "And no one else ever visits him, except me and sometimes you and Harry. He has no one left, Ron! His parents and some of his old friends are in Azkaban, and his other friends– well, they're obviously not the visiting type," she said, sniffing disapprovingly.

"I know, Hermione, and I'm not saying there's anything wrong with you visiting the ferret," Ron said quietly. "I know how you are, and I understand. But just– be careful, all right? Sometimes you get too involved, and you let things get too personal."

She felt her face turn warmer, well-aware that he was right. "Draco's a friend. We may have drifted apart after graduation, but I don't want to lose his friendship again."

"I can see that. But just remember he might not think of you the same way. All right?" Ron hugged her lightly.

"All right," she returned the hug, relieved that Ron wasn't acting up about her friendship with Draco. "Thanks, Ron."

He grinned. "Just looking out for you," he shrugged. "Harry's worried too, so we figured we'd just give you a bit of a warning."

"Duly noted," she smiled back. But after Ron had left, her smile faltered and she sat down heavily on the seat by Draco's bed. Ron was right. Hermione had a tendency to throw her heart into everything she did, and quite often the returns weren't as great as what she invested. Like that last year in Hogwarts, when she had given Draco much more of her heart than she had intended to, and ended up treasuring their friendship much more than she had wanted to. He had gone traveling after graduation, and although she waited, not a single letter or postcard came for her. She didn't even know when he returned to England. It seemed their friendship hadn't meant anything to him. And here she was again, feeling too much, as if she hadn't learned anything the first time!

"Why the long face?"

Her head snapped up, and Hermione found herself looking into Draco's curious grey eyes. "You're awake!" she gasped.

"Have been, since Weasel- it was Weasel, wasn't it?- slammed the door. Bit groggy though," he admitted.

"Is there anything you need? Do you need a Healer?"

"Water, if you don't mind," he nodded at the glass on the bedside table. He shifted himself into a sitting position as she reached for the cup.

"Does your head still hurt?" she asked, watching him anxiously as he drank.

"Not really. I just feel really tired." Draco returned the cup of water and swept his gaze over her form. "You weren't hurt?"

"Not at all. Neither were Harry and Ron."

"And Tinky?"

Hermione couldn't help smiling, pleased at his consideration for his elf. "He's fine. Physically, anyway. He's undergoing therapy for his psychological trauma, but he'll be right as rain in no time. What he really needs is your reassurance that you're not angry with him, and that you won't give him clothes."

"How did Crabbe do it, anyway?"

She told him the whole story, how Crabbe had gotten to Tinky when the elf had gone to the apothecary to buy potion ingredients to restock the Malfoys' storeroom. Crabbe had placed Tinky under a variant of the Imperius curse, which worked on house elves. Like the true Imperius, it could be defeated. Tinky hadn't been able to completely overcome it, although he fought it at first, but his strength rapidly waned. As they had surmised, Tinky couldn't directly hurt Draco, and had to use indirect methods to kill him. When Draco had summoned Tinky after the spider incident, Crabbe had tagged along, trusting the elf to get him through the wards. By the time the other Aurors had arrived, Crabbe had been so scared that he confessed everything.

Draco had closed his eyes and leaned back during the recital, but he made noises so she knew he was listening. At the end of it, she asked him her questions about the Fiendfyre. "How did you know you could control it?"

"I didn't. But I thought it was worth a try. There's an incantation for casting the Fiendfyre. I spoke it, and added a little bit of my own fire to the flames. Not much, but enough to merge with Crabbe's dragon. My initial plan was to fight fire with fire, but in the end, they merged, and I just had one fire to deal with, one that I couldn't control as easily as if it were wholly mine, but I knew I could defeat it if I concentrated."

"Why did it explode?" she asked curiously.

"I'm not sure," he said. "I didn't expect it to. I can only guess that it's because it wasn't completely my fire. That might have had something to do with it."

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. "Apple said you've been practicing with fire."

Draco looked away, but she saw the flash of guilt in his eyes. "Yes. After Vince... I thought I might try learning how to control fire. I'm not an Elemental, I've got no real affinity for fire. But it was worth a try. I didn't want anyone else to die that way."

"I'm glad you did," she replied. "You saved our lives."

He didn't say anything for a while, looking lost in his memories. Hermione watched him, conscious of an urge to comfort him. She tamped it down and stood. "If you don't need anything more, maybe I should go. You look tired and I have work tomorrow."

Draco glanced up at her, looking slightly disappointed. "What time is it?"

"Just past seven." She started suddenly. "That reminds me, your dinner is here," she said, picking up a tray from the table and handing it to him. "If you're not hungry, you can eat it later, it won't spoil."

"Have you eaten?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not yet."

"Will you join me, then?" he invited. "I can't eat all of this– they gave two of everything, I'm sure they expected you to share it with me." Draco noticed her hesitation. "If you don't like the food, can you just stay for twenty more minutes to keep me company?"

She couldn't refuse him, not when she herself had been telling Ron how few visitors he had. "All right, twenty minutes," she said, conjuring a plate for herself and helping herself to his dinner.

"And my mother used to sing me to sleep," he added, grinning wickedly.

She almost threw a potato at him. "You're off your rocker, Malfoy, if you think I'm going to sing you to sleep," she retorted, unable to prevent herself from smiling. "You'll be lucky to finish your food without falling asleep."

He accepted her statement with a laugh, and enthusiastically tucked into his house elf-prepared hospital food. "You never answered my question, you know."

"What question?"

"About your long face. Surely it wasn't solely on my account."

Hermione flushed. "No, it had nothing to do with you."

"Well, if you need someone to talk to, I'm definitely not busy. Though I may be asl

eep," he chuckled. Hermione's heart twisted; he was acting so much like he had when they were friends, and she found she had missed his company more than she realized. She couldn't help herself. His abandonment of their friendship had hurt; his resumption of it without any explanation was too much to bear.

"Why didn't you write to me?"

Draco paused in the act of raising his glass of water to his lips. "Sorry?"

"After graduation. When you went travelling to relax after school and the war. You never owled, never sent a letter or a single postcard."

He carefully set his glass down. "I didn't know what to say."

"Even when you returned to London, you could have at least said you were back, and perhaps we could have gone to tea or something. Merlin, Draco, did our friendship mean _nothing_ to you?" Hermione turned her head, trying to hide the tears she was blinking back. Immediately, she wished the conversation could be unsaid, but it wasn't possible, so she pressed on. "I know my blood isn't as pure as yours, but I thought you were past that–"

"Hermione, that's enough." Draco sat straight now, no longer supported by his pillows. He looked fiercely at her, but she wouldn't look at him. "How could you even think– no, I know why you would think that, and I'm sorry. I didn't know what to say to you that didn't sound silly or stupid or, in a word, pathetic."

She finally dragged her gaze up to meet his. "Why would I find you pathetic?"

He scoffed. "Everyone else did. Both of my parents in Azkaban for life– practically an orphan– good grades in school but without a hope of doing well in the _real _world, clinging to anyone who would show him a bit of kindness, as you did– that's what people were saying about me. Didn't you hear them?"

"I'm sure if I did I didn't give them the least amount of credit," she said, swelling indignantly. "And neither should you! Harry's an orphan, and my parents aren't allowed in _this_ world, but did that stop us? And I think you're doing perfectly fine in the real world, managing a family business– which your father badly neglected– all on your own."

"And the last? I didn't want you to think I was clinging to you, using you to look better in society."

"You could have proven that by standing by me and continuing our friendship," she told him bitterly. "What was I supposed to think when I never heard from you again? It did cross my mind that you didn't want our friendship exposed to the harsher censure of the world outside Hogwarts, that you were ashamed."

"How was I to know that you even wanted me? People were telling me that you just didn't have the heart to tell me off."

Hermione sputtered. "If I wanted you gone, Malfoy, I wouldn't have thought twice about telling you so! How do you think I got rid of McLaggen?" She saw that he was speechless, and continued, "and I think you should _apologize_, instead of denying it or staring at me like an idiot." Her tears completely overridden by her wrath, she returned to murdering her chicken.

"So you _did_ want to be friends?"

"Yes!"

Draco slumped back in his pillows, his cheeks burning. "Merlin, Hermione, I'm so sorry. I _have_ been an idiot. I honestly thought you'd be happy to be rid of me." He shook his head. "I don't know why you would have wanted anything to do with me. Not after everything."

She knew he was talking about their entire history, including her torture at his aunt's hands, and the many years he had verbally belittled her. But they had to move on somehow, they couldn't keep bringing it up. They couldn't let their past define them. So she ignore his last sentence and said instead, "not _wanted_. Want. I still want to have something to do with you, if you really don't mind being friends."

He looked up at her, amazed. How to tell her? She had taken the plunge earlier, and now it was his turn to say what he was truly thinking. "There was a time I wanted us to be more than friends," Draco admitted softly, almost hoping she wouldn't hear him. "But I thought it was hopeless." He glanced at Hermione, and saw that she was looking so exasperated with him that he couldn't help but smile. "Obviously, I thought wrong," he said, voicing her thoughts, "but once I'm better, would you like to have dinner with me one night? A proper dinner, where we're not eating off trays and I'm not lying down."

"I don't know," she hedged, "I'm not sure one dinner would do it for me."

"One dinner in every country I went to without sending you a postcard," he said boldly. He knew her, knew that she'd rather have more 'improper' dinners than one proper dinner in London's poshest restaurant.

He knew from the bright grin on her face that he'd finally said the right thing. Draco grinned back, relieved. They might not have gotten it right the first time, but they had another chance to get it right this time.

-End-


End file.
